Better than Flying Through Trees'
by Wynja2007
Summary: Summary: When Legolas reaches the end of his childhood, he is sent to embrace his mother's heritage by spending time amongst the Silvans... Written for the September Teitho Challenge where it placed third.


**Summary: When Legolas reaches the end of his childhood, he is sent to embrace his mother's heritage by spending time amongst the Silvans... Rated K/General, suitable for all.**

"I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,  
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,  
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,  
With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine."

William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream

 **Better Than Flying Through Trees**

It wasn't often that Legolas heard his parents arguing, and the fact that he seemed to be the topic of the disagreement should have worried him. Except Naneth's voice was laughing and teasing, and Adar's gently amused. And he knew he shouldn't have been listening; it was only that he'd heard his name as he passed by the door to their chambers and had lingered...

'It is traditional, Thranduil, and I know how you value tradition! Moreover, it is my tradition; you would not deny your youngest son the chance to embrace his Silvan self along with his Sinda side?'

'Of course not; I did not protest when our other sons participated. But should it not be his brother who leads him?'

'Now, do you really want our little leaf learning Iauron's tricks? If you want your son to know the shortest route to and from the brothels of Dale, fine. But he's too young for that sort of knowledge yet, and you know it!'

'Well, that is true... let me think about it. Now, are you going to put down your work and come to bed?'

'Hmm... Let me think about it.'

In his own rooms, Legolas pondered the discussion. He wouldn't reach his maturity for what felt like ages yet, but he'd heard stories of secret initiations that took place long before the celebration of adulthood.

Legolas would be forty soon, the point at which the Silvans acknowledged the ending of childhood and the beginnings of the brief and sometimes troubled period of youth, and he couldn't help wondering if that's what his parents had been discussing. Still, if it was, he would know in a few days. As his father kept telling him; he was an elf, he had forever; he could wait.

As it was, he didn't need to be patient for long; two days later on a bright morning just before the Midsummer celebrations, Naneth twinkled at him across the breakfast table.

'Eat heartily, ion-nin. We are going for a ride after breakfast.'

'You and I, Naneth? Will I need my bow?'

'And your knife, yes. And not just you and I. Your Ada is coming too.'

'A day out, together! That is wonderful!' Legolas exclaimed, for even when Naneth was free, quite often Ada would be trapped in the Great Cave complex by duty, so the prospect of going out, as a family, was indeed wonderful.

'Perhaps not the entire day,' his father said, rising from the table, his face smiling slightly. 'I will meet you at the stables in an hour.'

Legolas' horse was beautiful, as glossy and rich as fresh conkers, and she nudged him in a friendly way, looking for treats while he waited for his parents. His bow and quiver was at his back, his knife at his side, and he'd stowed a pack of lembas and a water flask in his tunic pocket. He'd dressed for a ride, in the greens and greys he liked and which blended so well into the forest.

And here came his parents, Naneth with her arm around Adar's waist, even though people might see, and she was laughing and he was smiling, despite the tightness in his father's eyes that usually meant he was worried about something.

They, too, were dressed for the forest, Naneth wearing a long split tunic over leggings and boots, her auburn hair braided back from her face. Legolas realised with a shock that he was taller than she now, that she had to look up into his face.

'Ai, how grown you are!' she said. 'So tall! You will pass your father, next!'

'I think that might take a year or two,' Adar said, beckoning to the stable hands to bring forward his and Naneth's steeds. 'But he is certainly taller than you, Baralinith!'

Naneth laughed, and sprang up onto her horse, a gentle black mare. Adar was riding his elk, towering over them once he was in his seat.

'We are heading to the perimeter watch flets,' Adar said. 'You know the proper trail, ion-nin; lead the way.'

So Legolas mounted up and set his horse down the trail, torn between pride at being given the lead, and suspicion that his parents had only done so in order to hold hands as they rode along behind.

Still.

They'd been riding for almost two hours when the air of the forest changed. He lifted his hand to signal he was stopping, and halted.

'What is it, Legolas?' his father asked.

'The mood of the forest is different. I do not know why... I think... I think we are not alone.'

As soon as he finished speaking, bits of shadow detached themselves from the forest, became figures, coming to stand well back on the path and drop to make obeisance to their king.

'Rise,' Adar said languidly. 'And come forward to meet with us.'

Naneth dismounted, so Legolas did so, too, watching curiously as the Silvans rose and came towards them. They moved lightly, almost shyly, their steps seeming skittish and nervous, but their heads were held high and there was a light in their gleaming brown eyes that somehow captivated Legolas, and he wondered if he, like his father, would marry a Silvan one day, so wild and beautiful and right as they seemed.

There were four of them, two ellyn and two ellith, and they wore dark green and brown garments, unevenly hemmed. At first Legolas thought they might be tattered, ragged, but no; they were designed so for some purpose. Each had a long bow and at least one knife in their belts, and they came forward with friendly, watchful smiles.

Naneth stepped forward.

'I know you, I know you all! How wonderful!'

'Our queen Baralinith, we are honoured.'

'But we have left our names behind for this time.'

'As must the one you bring to us.'

'Until we bring him back to you.'

'I am not queen,' Naneth said, smiling and shaking her head.

'You are our queen,' one said. 'Are you ready to part with your son?'

Legolas felt hands on his shoulders; Adar had dismounted from his elk and come to stand behind him. His father was not given to demonstrations of affection, at least, not since Legolas had stopped being an elfling, but there was something about the weight of Adar's hands that was reassuring.

Naneth stepped forward and kissed him on both cheeks, her hands resting fleetingly over Ada's.

'Be well, ion-nin. Don't be afraid, you will have a wonderful time! Thranduil? It's time.'

He felt his father's fingers tighten further, heard his mother laugh.

'Thranduil, he will be fine! These are my kin, they are his people. This matters.'

'How long will it take?' Ada asked. 'How long will I be without our son?'

'It takes as long as it takes. He may find there is no knowledge he needs that the forest can give. He may find he has knowledge of his own to impart; it could be days, it could be weeks.'

'He will come back changed.'

'Yes, of course he will. Or this would not matter so. But he will come back more himself. Now come along, beloved; you will scare him if you do not stop this, and it will be a wonderful experience for him.'

Legolas heard his father sigh, felt the grip loosen, although Thranduil kept hold of him.

'Be well, my son. Pay attention, listen to these young people; you will gain knowledge from them that not the finest tutors in the land can impart, although you should not tell Arveldir that. We will see you soon.'

And the touch was gone from his shoulders, and Legolas felt bereft.

But slender hands were reaching for him.

'Come with us! We will show you all the best places! Leave your name behind with your parents – they will keep it safe for you,' one said.

'Up into the canopy – you can climb, yes?' the second said.

'If not, we will help,' added the third.

'Mmm,' said the fourth, 'If you need it. The wide trail first, I think; it is a good day to run.'

And without so much as a glance behind at his parents, Legolas took the hands extended to him, and ran off into the forest.

The forest swelled and shushed around them like songs of the sea, the Silvans inserting themselves effortlessly into the undergrowth, taking Legolas with them. Soon he had lost his sense of direction utterly, but somehow, it didn't seem to matter.

After they had been running for a long time, a whistle from the left, and the Silvans holding his hands slowed, laughing, dragging him to a stop.

He looked around in wonder; here was a rise and fall of the forest, and water cascading down from a little stream over a rocky edge to fall into a soft, green pool and splash away in a little beck winding through the forest.

'We will go up soon.'

'You will like it.

'Yes, it is delightful!'

'But we need to stop and tell you who you are.'

But I know who I am, he wanted to say. Except there was something about the Silvans, their laughing, gleaming eyes, that made him pause.

'Good, that is good,' one of the ellyn said, nodding. 'We said to our queen, we have left our names behind. Names constrain us, try to restrain us. Out here, we have ways of thinking of each other that are not our names. I am oldest of the group, so we call me Old.'

The hands reached for him again, and he became part of a circle of Silvans who danced under the cascade so the water drenched them all, blessed them with its freshness, and he smiled, feeling cleansed as it danced over his hair, his clothes.

'You we will call New,' an elleth said. 'For you are just arrived. I am known as Loud, because sometimes my voice carries. This is Long, for both his hair, and his frame, is longest of all of us.'

Legolas nodded. 'And your friend?' he asked, smiling at the as-yet unnamed elleth.

'I am Calm,' the elleth said. 'Which is not always true, but true enough.'

Legolas nodded. 'I am New,' he said. 'And I'm pleased to meet you.'

'Oh, polite! Palace manners! You do not have to be a prince now, New. You are New. Leave your princely manners behind with your Sinda self and allow your Silvan self to shine.'

Legolas (no, New) nodded. Living in the palace, being a prince sometimes felt like wearing a heavy coat on a warm spring day, and he was glad to cast it off and adapt to this new way of thinking.

'It is time to leave your old name in the water, and run out amongst the trees with us, learn the forest!'

And it didn't matter that New was soaked to the skin, for the sun was warm and the day a glorious gift of the Valar, to be savoured and relished and, what was more, he had friends to share its wonder with.

Long went to stand in front of a glorious beech tree, and reached out to touch its bark. He looked over his shoulder and smiled.

'Have you ever done this, New?' he asked.

New went across to join him.

'Yes. My parents told me. This is how we can let the tree know we are there, and let it see we respect and honour it,' New said, placing his palm against the bark and closing his eyes for a moment, offering himself to the tree. 'My mother says the trees like it when we talk to them.'

'They also like it when we listen,' Old said with a grin. 'But for that, you have to go up. Near the crown, that's where the sapience layer begins, that's where you start.'

New nodded, eyes lifting to read the tree's growth. He paused for a moment, gauging distance, and then ran up the tree to swing onto a branch and settle comfortably down, touching the trunk lightly.

Long and Calm, Loud and Old, laughed delightedly and in turn swarmed up to perch amongst the leaves and spread themselves out on the branches.

'Now all we do is wait,' Calm said.

'Listen to the forest,' Long added.

'Allow yourself to float with the sunshine,' Loud suggested.

'Let him find his own way,' Old said. 'New, we will stay here as long as you wish.'

New allowed his senses to drift, letting himself become part of the forest in the way he'd seen Naneth do so often, so easily.

But it wasn't easy, not for him.

Although he tried to relax, to loosen his sense of self, it was difficult when there was one particular budding branch that wanted to become part of his ribs as he lay back.

After what seemed like forever, he sighed and sat up.

'It's not happening for me,' he said sadly. 'What am I doing wrong?'

'Nothing,' Long said. 'But you have done well. Most of us get bored much sooner than this.'

'And you looked very calm, while you were trying to hear.' Calm added. 'Perhaps the tree doesn't feel talkative today. You get like that too, I'm sure. We all do.'

'And there's something jabbing into me,' New said, shifting position to reveal the jutting shoot.

Long smiled.

'Maybe the tree was just holding its hand out to you,' he said. 'If you want, we can wait while you try again.'

'Yes, I'd like that. I don't want to annoy the tree, though.'

'You won't,' Loud told him. 'Compared to squirrels and woodpeckers, we are delightful visitors.'

All laughed, and New moved on the branch, lying back along its length and allowing his face to rest against the shoot. He gave himself up to the forest once more, this time thinking about his points of connection with the tree, this time listening, trying to hear...

Something was different.

He heard - no, he grew aware of - the rushing life, the energy of the tree, how it sang as it drew sustenance from the earth, how everything sang with it...

It was beautiful, immense, moving. It was a slow and ponderous soaring that took its time to build and fall and sweep, it encompassed the bones of the earth and the lightness of pollen on the wind, and suddenly, New felt the song become a part of him, his blood was sap, his beating heart a fluttering echo of the great systolic forces powering each and every tree… he felt the life flowing through him, saw how it was at once different and the same… he sighed, and the breeze soughed amongst the leaves, and he soughed, and the breeze breathed… his hands were leaves, filtering sunlight, capturing its energy…

He spread himself in the sun to catch all he could of its light, he felt the coolness of the root run beneath him, he grew aware of other lives, bright, swift points of joy, sentient and aware… they were like laughing thoughts, and as he turned his aware towards them, he could sense their response, filtered through the tree; they were joyous, encouraging, happy, and he suddenly wished to share that happiness in a way more normal to him, so he began to ease his awareness out of the tree and came back to himself to find his leaves had become fingers again, and he was giggling as he lay there, the sun on his face, and the others, too, Loud laughing, Long chuckling, Old giggling and Calm grinning delightedly.

'You did it, New! We saw you, through the heart of the tree, oh, you look so beautiful to the forest, the trees see you as a golden light, as if you are the sun,' she said. 'It was wonderful to see!'

'I saw you, also,' New said, calming, sitting up, more aware than ever of the life surging all around him. 'Laughing thoughts, that's how the tree thinks of you.'

'Laughing thoughts, indeed!' Long said. 'We like to laugh, and our joy brightens the forest's shadow. But we like to fly, also. Will you fly with us, New? Will you dance through the canopy of the forest, and learn how to be free, as the birds are?'

New nodded, and ran, and learned how to read the trees, to use the branches to swing form one to another, how to announce himself so there was always a branch reaching for him, ready to catch and steady, always a handhold, a foothold, always a path.

The day wore on, sometimes New followed, and sometimes he led, but mostly he just was.

Midsummer's Evening, and they made a little camp in a glade, built a fire, cooked a little shoal of trout Loud and Long had caught in a stream they'd forded earlier, and gathered close while the night fell around them like a black blanket of shadow.

'Now we sing songs and tell stories, and the only rule is this; we do not tell our own stories, or name the heroes in our tales. We can make them up, we can make them true, we can turn our hopes and dreams into our songs. But no names.'

Loud told a tale of a brave stag that outran all the hunters so that the Elk Tamers made him part of their herd. Calm related a story of sailing all the way along the river to Dale. Long sang a song of leaving, sailing west, and that caused debate and shock amongst the other Silvans.

'We do not sail!' Loud said, and showed her name was apt.

'We must not sail!' Calm said, and she was anything but calm as she said it.

Old shook his head, but said nothing as Long defended himself.

'We can sail if we wish. Only those bad elves, those kinslayers who were banished with Doom laid upon them cannot sail back…'

'I am sure you are right, Long,' New said. 'It is for all of us, if we choose.'

'It is different for you,' Loud said. 'You are Sinda. You are a prince.'

'You are the son of the king,' Calm said. 'Of course you can sail.'

'And so can you! Besides, I am not a prince, I am New. I am not Sinda, I am half-Silvan. And I will tell you my story now, if I may.'

'Go on,' Old said.

New gathered his ideas together, remembered he had to take the names out of his account, and began to speak.

'Long ago, there was a small elfling who was afraid of the dark, and his Naneth came to him in the night and asked why he did not reverie, why he shut his eyes to hide?' And he told her, he didn't believe he could sail; he had been told off for something, and Cook had called him a Bad Elfling, and it had stayed with him. In return, the naneth told him a story. This is that story…

 _On a time in the long ago, when the Valar had called their elven friends home, Lord_ _Oromë_ _came across a group of wood elves in the forest._

' _Well met,' said he. 'And in due time, for we must leave soon…'_

 _They shuffled their feet and they dipped their heads until finally one said, 'But, great Lord_ _Oromë_ _, we are wood elves. We do not sail, we cannot sail! We are not worthy.'_

' _Do not be daft!'_ _Oromë_ _declared. 'You are all worthy. You are all creatures of Eru_ _Ilúvatar_ _, and there will always be a welcome for you in Valinor.'_

' _We are not all worthy,' one said, in a very small voice. 'I fight with my siblings, sometimes. And I know of one who drinks too deep of wine, and is cross in the mornings. And others who steal apples, even if they are to give to the riding elks…'_

 _And_ _Oromë_ _laughed._

' _My dear children,' he said. 'None of these things make you unworthy. None of you are, or could ever be, unworthy. Do not fear such things!'_

 _But another spoke, and said, 'Great Lord, we tarried on the way; we played in the forests and fished in the streams… we did not go, the first time, and we do not wish to go now!'_

' _Well, I do not want to take you from your homes. But there will be dangers, and there will be evil, and we cannot protect you if you are here and we are far away. Still, I will stay as long as I can,'_ _Oromë_ _said. 'And there will be times when you hear my horn sounding out across the forest. It may sound like wind in the trees, but it is not. It is my sign that you are my friends, and I will always welcome you. In Valinor, I have lands, beautiful, wide, wild forests almost as lovely as your own, and I have always hoped that Silvans will make a home there, one day.'_

 _So it is said, that when the wind wuthers and blows across the forest, and sounds like horns blowing, that_ _Oromë_ _is riding out to make sure his Silvans are safe, and as a reminder that all can sail who will._

'And that is the story that the naneth told the elfling,' New said. 'It seemed clear to the elfling, and to me, now, that Silvans are promised a wonderful home, should they choose to sail. And perhaps that is the heart of it – choice.'

'An interesting story,' Old said. 'I like it; I like that it gives comfort to little elflings as well as to Silvans of all ages. Well, perhaps one day, we will see. But now, I think it is time to rest. New, tonight you will reverie under the stars and feel their blessings as they circle over you. And you will wake and wonder that you never knew refreshment before now.'

When New woke, it was indeed with a sense of awe. As he had slept, it felt as if the forest had crept into his fëa, into his very being. He sat up, saw Calm and Old still in reverie, Long braiding Loud's hair for her. Loud waved, and he jumped up and ran over to join them.

'What are we doing today?' he asked.

Long grinned.

'Whatever we want,' he said.

And they did just that.

New lost track of the days spent exploring, listening, learning. He grew to know the moods of the forest through the day, recognized when best to talk to the trees, when they only wanted to rest and soak up their nourishment from the soil. He discovered the easiest way to move without disturbing the small creatures of the woodland, and once the little group came upon a hind and her calf and watched in breathless joy as they faded into the shadows, unaware of the scrutiny of the young wood elves.

Days became weeks, and still New found fresh beauties in the forest, made new discoveries, shared in the life of the wood, the life of the Silvans. They hunted, and fished, and swam, and shot their fine arrows, and began, in time, to know each other, so that it no longer seemed strange that the Silvans did not know whether they could sail or not; he understood their reticence, even though he was certain there would be a welcome for them.

One day, they were running through a bright summer shower, rain falling like tears and suddenly Calm stopped in her tracks and stared at New. Alerted by this, Long stopped his dance for joy in the rain, and his face grew serious. Old and Loud reached out to each other, to pat reassuringly at their friends.

Suddenly New found a great, swelling senses of sadness as he realised:- the rain was tears, the forest was weeping, and then so was he, and Old, and Loud, Calm and Long were weeping too, and they gathered together into a little knot of grief that lasted as long as the rain, holding on to each other for solace.

And even when they finally stopped, they clung together, and New had no idea, at first, why they had suddenly needed to weep.

A strange mood folded itself around the young elves; gradually, they released their hold on each other, began to stand upright and draw back into themselves; individuals, not part of the group.

'It's over,' New said, and he could not believe it.

Long shook his head.

'No, not over; this is never over, New. It is merely… completed.'

'Yes,' Calm said. 'This time, this lesson, is learned. How to live together, how to understand the one who is different. Thank you, New, for teaching us.'

'But I thought it was I who was learning from you?' New said, and Loud shook her head.

'We learn from each other,' she said. 'But we have never had anyone like you before, New.'

'It's time,' Old said. 'We may well meet again, in due course. It is a big forest, but not that big.'

'What happens now?' New asked.

'That which we don't want,' Long said, sighing. 'It is this way.'

They ran up into the canopy, they dropped from branch to branch, and it felt like flying. The trees still caught them, still reached for them, but it was less intense, less intimate, the connection with the forest as it bowled them along, back to the more known regions, the stream with its waterfall, and once more they gathered under the cascade to wash themselves in the living waters.

Its freshness revived them, so they were able to smile, after, at each other, and New found his coat in a corner of the cave, shaking it out.

'I do not want to put this on again,' he said. 'Besides, I am not sure it will fit, any more. Ha, look; I still have some lembas in my pocket. If we truly must part, my friends, shall we break bread together, one last time?

'Let's wait until we get to the waypoint,' Old said. 'A song while we walk, Long, will you start?'

Long began a walking song, softly melodic, sweetly sad, and the others took it up, and soon, too soon, they were at the crossing of trails where New had said goodbye to his parents and run off with the younglings into the forest.

They made a ceremony of it, almost, sitting in a little circle, each breaking off a corner of lembas and passing it on until all had a piece in their hands.

'I was called Old,' Old said. 'But where I am going to, I am known as Uirdor.'

'Elhael,' Calm said. 'That is who I shall be, once more.'

Loud sighed.

'Beldes, that is who they know me as,' she said.

'And I am returning to be Duvainor,' Long said, smiling sadly.

'Legolas,' New said. 'I am known as Legolas, but I think I will always be New, in my heart.'

They ate the lembas, embraced once more, and ran off into the forest in different directions, back to the lives they had known.

Legolas carried his coat until he was within sight of the bridge over the river in front of the palace. Only then did he sigh, and shrug it on, and felt, no, it didn't fit. But even though it wasn't his finest coat, it was still a prince's coat, and he was its prince, and he would have to make it fit; he was a child of two worlds, Sinda and Silvan.

Over the bridge and the guard outside the great gates stamped to attention. One opened the gates and slipped within, presumably to let everyone know he was back.

He turned to look one last time at the forest, to imagine he could see Old, and Long, and Loud, and Calm, and lifted his hand to wave to their fëar. He paused, and then waved to New as well, and noticed how the leaves were turning to red and gold, and starting to slowly fall as dusk began to settle on the forest.

Legolas shook his head, bewildered. Had he really been three months gone, in the forest? It didn't feel so long...

Well. This time of day was, by tradition, the hours his parents claimed for themselves, the quiet time before the evening meal in the banqueting hall. This was a good thing, maybe; he needed a little quiet time of his own, to go to his rooms, reassure himself he was really back, that the only thing changed was him.

So he nodded to the guard and headed into the palace, making for his private rooms.

'Legolas!'

He had reached the royal accommodation wing when he heard his voice shouted from the far end of the passage. Turning, he saw his naneth, gathering her skirts and beginning to run towards him. But the voice had been that of his adar, who was striding out, his pace increasing until he, too, was running, and Legolas headed towards them to find himself held and hugged and his back patted, his hair stroked, and all of them talking at once, the words lost, incoherent, but the meaning plain; I missed you, you are here, you are safe, you are still the same.

Finally, they pulled away enough to look at each other. Legolas saw the same joy in his mother's eyes as in his father's, as was in his own heart.

'Ion-nin, are you well?' Adar asked.

'Yes, I am fine, it was wonderful, Ada, the forest, it talked to me... and Naneth, it listened when I talked to it, and I learned so much, and...oh, when I am older, I am sure I want to marry a Silvan, they are wonderful, wonderful people...'

Adar opened his mouth to say something, began to shake his head, stopped and blinked, and Naneth laughed.

'Adar? Because, I know it will not be like it was for you and Naneth with Daeradar not understanding...'

Naneth put her arms around Legolas and gave him a little hug.

'My dear, beloved son,' Adar said, his voice serious. 'I want you to find your fëa-mate, and be happy, and if you find your completion in one of our Silvans, then very well. Only, be careful; some of the more traditional families do not believe they can sail; I would not have you face your forever alone.'

Legolas nodded.

'I know. But I could always stay, too,' he said.

'Well, this is a discussion for another day,' Naneth said. 'Thranduil, it is time we were dressing for dinner; I will walk Legolas to his rooms, and join you shortly.'

'But, Baralinith...'

'Go on, shoo!' Naneth made little dismissing gestures and led Legolas away towards his chambers. She tilted her head so her hair was mingling with his, and it made him smile; she had Silvan hair, just like Elhael's, and he realised, he had not lost all his Silvan friends, he had one here, in his naneth.

'Do not worry, ion-nin, I am not going to smother you with hugs and cossetting!' she said, as they entered his quarters. 'I just wanted to ask, did you really enjoy it?'

'Oh, Naneth!' He sat down and took her hands, pulling her onto the seat next to him. 'Like Adar said, so much knowledge Arveldir or the tutors couldn't possibly tell me!'

'Wonderful, I am so glad!' Naneth squeezed his hands. 'So, tell me, what was the most important thing you learned?'

Legolas smiled, shaking his head. He had learned how the forest lived and how to live within it, but that wasn't the best thing.

'It was when we met them, and we were saying goodbye,' he said. 'When Adar wouldn't let go of my shoulders. I learned that, even though he can't always say it, or show it, because he's the king, Adar loves me. That was better than flying through trees.'

Naneth laughed, and hugged him, getting up to go.

'Well, I will remind you of that, next time you are cross with him! Now, hurry and bathe, and change – I know, it is hard to settle to palace ways after the freedoms of the forest, but it is time you lived as a Sinda prince again. You will never stop being a Silvan, though, my son.' She paused to smile. 'Better than flying through trees; your Adar will love that!'


End file.
